


Ace in the Hole

by Blake



Series: Cole Porter 30-day challenge [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Nobody Dies, Not Canon Compliant - Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rey is their force-baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake
Summary: He’s glad to see you,you observe, and deep in your heart you’re not as surprised as you should be after the years of telling yourself you’re the cause of every single thing that ever went wrong in Han’s life, in Leia’s life, in all their lives.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Han Solo
Series: Cole Porter 30-day challenge [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610263
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	Ace in the Hole

There’s such a long, horrible moment of quiet after you ask, “Wait, where’s Han?” that you actually think he’s gone. You feel like you’re free-falling off the face of one of these godforsaken cliffs you’ve marooned yourself on. You feel all the regret of a lifetime crumble on top of you like boulders crushing your bones. Illogically, you stare into the eyes of this strange girl at your doorstep, as if holding onto her pupils can keep you from falling. Illogically, the loudest regret in your mind that if only you hadn’t selfishly cut yourself off from the force, you could have sensed the moment that he died and somehow reversed it. Your mind doesn’t go further back in your long history of bad decisions than that, because you haven’t let yourself think _Maybe I shouldn’t have run away from them_ in years. _Maybe he’ll come find you_ is the thought you’ve told yourself you don’t want to think, and now, you fear, he _can’t_.

But then an old man who looks like Han Solo comes up behind the girl, and you actually start to fall.

He catches you, because of _course_ he does. You’re so wrapped up in the fierce, tight cycle of acute distress and relief that you can’t think of anything else. He’s here which means he’s alive which means your life’s not over in the ways that count, and that’s all there is to it. You push him away, hold him at arm’s distance, checking both his eyes to make sure they’re real.

The girl runs up into your faces, yelling, “I thought you were dead! You _lunatic_!”

You start to like her.

“Yeah. What she said,” you bite out through your tear-clenched jaw, watching every micro-movement of Han’s growing smile despite yourself. _He’s glad to see you_ , you observe, and deep in your heart you’re not as surprised as you should be after the years of telling yourself you’re the cause of every single thing that ever went wrong in Han’s life, in Leia’s life, in all their lives.

In the distance, Chewie, who was apparently the only one in the know about Han being a _not_ -dead lunatic, grumbles something about cowards.

Han shrugs and cocks his smile to the side, and you know he’s about to aggressively make light of something, distracting from a wound. “Hey, when the bad guys want you dead, you learn to always keep an ace in the hole.” You suspect you know who almost-killed him, but you want to keep looking at him, and you can’t do that if you think about it.

The girl is shouting again. “You stowed away on your own _ship_? Chewie and I could have used your help piloting, you know!”

“Is she with you?” you ask, expecting some smartass reply in return.

Instead, he turns to the girl and hitches his thumb toward the door. “Hey kid, give us a minute, will ya?”

The softness in his voice surprises you, and the patience with which he waits for her to eye them skeptically and make her escape. “Have you softened up in your old age?” You’re dying to touch his face with the palm of your living hand, to see if his skin feels the way you remember it.

Han scratches the thinning, gray hair at the back of his head sheepishly. “Hot-headed, hungry desert brat, insults _everybody_ , decent with a lightsaber. What’s not to love?”

You laugh in the same moment you start to cry. You’d committed yourself to a fate of never hearing Han talk to you again, let alone _flirt_ with you, and you’ve discovered too late that your walls of defenses were made of sand, just far enough away from conflict that their strength was never tested.

He catches you as you stumble forward, because of course he does. You completely melt in the warmth of his arms, which are thinner and shakier than before, but still hold you strong. You clutch the back of his shirt with your metal hand and touch his face with your other, and you breathe from his jacket the smell of all the years you could have lived with him if you hadn’t ruined everything.

He combs his fingers through your hair, an old habit, and whispers against your temple, “Some people have spent _years_ looking for you.”

“I’m here,” you say, but your voice is soft and your words get swallowed up by his chapped, gentle lips.


End file.
